


hear the patterns of your breathing

by guitarstrings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, I'm Sorry, because my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 13:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guitarstrings/pseuds/guitarstrings
Summary: (And Betty-Betty helped her realize that she’s more than capable of caring for others, of loving, if she would only dare to believe.And she did, she does.Cares and believes and hopes and loves more than she could have ever thought herself to be capable of before.)or, the times Veronica conquers her fears with Betty's help.





	hear the patterns of your breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this fic taken from "Flicker" by Niall Horan.
> 
> And alongside Flicker, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snn_kZwdruM) version of "Mine" by Taylor Swift was also a major inspiration in writing other parts of this piece (and also why there's a tad more angst in here as compared to my previous Beronica fics).
> 
> As always, I hope you guys like this!

As much as Veronica wants the world to stop turning, it doesn’t. It still goes on and on, as though unaware of all the terrible things that have been happening and will _continue_ to happen to this godforsaken town.

Was it too much to ask for everything to slow down for a while? To let everyone catch their breath after Jason’s murder had been solved?

Apparently though, with her father’s impending return and with Fred Andrews getting shot, it was indeed too much to ask.

Veronica sighs, turns over on her side, the sheets rustling silently with her movement. Beside her, Betty is fast asleep, though not peacefully given the crinkle in her nose and the deep furrow between her eyebrows.

Scooting closer towards Betty, Veronica reaches out and gently brushes the tips of her fingers against the wrinkles in Betty’s forehead, then slides them downwards to skim the heavy bags underneath her eyes.

And, for a moment, Veronica feels the world go still.

_Maybe it isn’t too much to ask, after all,_ Veronica thinks, as she touches Betty’s cheek, soft and warm against her palm. Jaw relaxed and free of any tenseness.

(The old her would have never seen this coming, would have never allowed letting another person have her completely, heart and soul and every imperfect piece she holds.

Would have done everything to keep Betty at a distance, never anything more than an arm’s reach.

Would have never allowed Betty to slip past her defenses and catch her unguarded.

Would have denied even to the very core of her being that she had fallen for Betty until the day she died.

But now-

Now all she wants is to make sure she doesn’t let Betty down, doesn’t treat her like some meaningless fling as she has so done with others before.

Wants to love and love and _love_ Betty in every way she can and never be afraid of it.)

Touching her forehead to Betty’s, Veronica closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know why or how, but,” Veronica pauses, throat closing up and chest tightening. “You chose to be with me, and-“ she bites her lip, counts to ten because she wants to make it through without breaking down. Not that it should matter, because Betty can’t hear her anyway. But still. “-and you could have run away, and you still _can,_ but you’re not. You’re still here.”

Betty’s breath hitches for a brief second, stopping Veronica dead in her tracks, heart beating rapidly and only slowing back down when she’s sure Betty hasn’t been stirred awake.

“You’re still here,” Veronica whispers shakily, shoulders shaking from the strain of reigning herself in. “And sometimes it all feels like a dream that I don’t want to wake up from,” she laughs, hollow, because she knows it’s silly, what she’s thinking and saying, but she can’t bring herself to stop. “And it would be cruel, if _this,_ ” she chokes, now tightly gripping Betty’s shirt. “If this, if _you_ were just a dream.”

_That’s enough._ She needs to stop before she spirals out of control, before she gets anymore absurd ideas and scare herself any more than she already has. Before she scares herself hard enough to let her biggest fear of losing Betty, Betty _leaving_ turn into reality.   

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Veronica kisses Betty’s forehead, then slides out of the covers as quietly as she could, sparing Betty one last glance before leaving the room.

It’s suddenly cold, without the warmth of being wrapped up in Betty’s arms. But Veronica soldiers on, lets her feet drag her to the kitchen. She flicks on the lights, the orange glow making her feel warmer but not enough to compare to Betty’s presence.

Without a word, Veronica sits by the kitchen table, rubbing at her arms and elbows as she sweeps her gaze across the apartment. Tonight would be one of its last peaceful nights, which is sure to be thrown into chaos once her father arrives.

Heck, even her mom is starting to be withdrawn, acting sneakier and more suspicious as the days go by. No doubt because of her dad.

It’s always been about him, _because_ of him, anyway.

“Hey…”

Startled, Veronica snaps her head towards the source of the voice, finds Betty leaning against the kitchen’s doorframe, hair tousled and eyes bleary.

Veronica smiles tiredly, clasps her hands on top of the table. “Hey. Did you just wake up?”

“No, I woke up when you got out of bed,” Betty answers softly, without a trace of annoyance. “I thought you might have wanted a few minutes to yourself.”

“I… kind of did, yeah,” Veronica hesitates, a twinge of guilt stabbing at her chest, eyes flickering down because she knows how that must come across as.

She blinks when she sees Betty’s hands folding on top of her own, urging Veronica to meet her gaze. To her relief, Betty doesn’t look either hurt or offended, just… looking at her with love and nothing _but_ love.

“Not- not from you, though,” she adds, quiet but sure and truthful. “Just from… everything else going on.”

_From him._

Veronica doesn’t need to say it out loud for Betty to understand, because Betty always gets what she wants to drive at without fail. Which usually isn’t a problem when it comes to matters outside of her family, but they _do_ get involved, Veronica struggles with what to say, the words getting stuck in her throat and refusing to be said.

(Because most people refuse to hear whatever she has to say about them.

Not Betty though, even if what she says most of the time are horrible things. About how her father is ruining lives and the nagging worry that her mother might have been helping him from the shadows all this time.

It’s a wonder how the weight of her name hasn’t driven Betty away, instead drew her in like a moth to a flame.

And it’s what has Veronica praying and crying out loud that Betty doesn’t end up getting burned, because she’s burned too much, _they’ve_ burned too much.

To let that happen to Betty would be the final nail in Veronica’s coffin.)

“Then let’s get away for a while,” Betty offers without hesitation, getting to her feet and bringing Veronica onto hers.

_Let’s._ Veronica likes the way Betty says it, makes her feel that she isn’t alone, that she doesn’t have to go through this by herself.

“What are we going to do? It’s late,” Veronica asks, confused.

“Just- here,” Betty draws Veronica close, guiding her arms around her neck and wrapping hers around Veronica’s waist.

_Oh._

Catching on, Veronica smiles, sliding one hand up to comb through Betty’s hair, feet swaying in time with the rise and fall of her chest and the steady beating of her heart.

And it works.

As Veronica watches the shadows dance across Betty’s face, she forgets whatever has been worrying her, forgets everything else that isn’t Betty and the two of them.

“Feeling better?” Betty asks softly, but not too carefully that would make Veronica feel as though she could break at any moment.  

Betty gets it, gets _her._ Can sort out the jumbled mess that is her emotions and the occasional conflict between steeling herself and being vulnerable.

“Yeah,” Veronica whispers, feet never stopping even as she rests her head on Betty’s chest. “Much better.”

“Okay,” Betty breathes out, the beating of her heart like music to Veronica’s ears. Strong, steady, and even. “I… heard what you said, by the way. Before- before you got out of bed,” she murmurs, and Veronica’s heart stops at the admission.

“I-“ Veronica falters, at a loss for words. Forces her gaze towards the ground, at Betty’s feet. “It was stupid, wasn’t it? Sorry…”

“No, it’s- it’s not,” Betty inhales deeply, gently tilting Veronica’s chin upwards, eyes searching hers. “Because there are days when I feel the same way, too. But I’m-“ she takes Veronica’s hand, places it on her chest where Veronica can feel the beat of her heart, the steady rise and fall of her chest. “-I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Veronica echoes, believes in it with all that she is.

And when Betty pulls her closer, holding her tighter but still leaving enough room for them to move freely, Veronica feels the safest she’s ever been.

(Betty has always been her safe place, her shelter from the storms that come with the weight of carrying her family’s name.

The one who constantly reminds her and firmly believes that she’s not a monster simply because she carries the name _Lodge_ with her wherever she goes.

Her star in the darkest of nights, promising she’ll never let go.)

* * *

 

There are a lot of things Veronica is good at, is sure of, but one thing she’s stumped at is wondering if she’s being a good girlfriend, if she’s letting Betty down somehow in any aspect, whether big or small.

One reason being she hasn’t ever been in a serious relationship with anyone before Betty, and two, the fact that her mother had kissed someone else while still very much married to her father definitely isn’t something you would want to model your own relationship after.

(There are just too many things wrong with her parents’ relationship, too many mistakes and sneaking around doing shady things behind each other’s backs. Things that Veronica is too afraid of mentioning, let alone _think_ of.

Things that leave her scared and paranoid that she could do the same thing to Betty.)

Veronica shakes her head, rids herself of the negative thoughts swirling in her head because she and Betty are _not_ her parents, and unlike them, they’re doing things right. With a bag of Betty’s favorite donuts in one hand, Veronica pushes the door to The Blue and Gold open, smile at the ready.

Only, she finds Betty asleep on her desk, face illuminated by the faint glow coming from the computer’s screen, her normally tidy ponytail already half-undone, golden hair tousled and disheveled in a few places.

Quietly, Veronica walks towards Betty, placing the bag of donuts at a safe distance in case Betty wakes up with a jerk like she does sometimes.

“Betty, wake up,” Veronica whispers, gently shaking Betty’s shoulders.

“Mmm,” Betty hums tiredly in response, tilting her head but otherwise remains fast asleep, completely dead to the world.

Chuckling fondly, Veronica pulls out a chair and sits next to Betty, leaning in close to brush her lips against her ear.

“C’mon, Betty,” Veronica purrs, low and breathy, blowing right into Betty’s ear.

This finally does the trick, as Betty’s eyes fly wide open, blinking rapidly in confusion until she realizes Veronica had woken her up.

“Wha- V?” Betty rubs at her eyelids, raising her head from the table. “When did-“ she pauses, covers her mouth and yawns. “When did you get here?”

Lips twitching into an affectionate smile, Veronica reaches out and frees Betty’s hair from her untidy ponytail, taking in the way her hair falls into soft waves around her face and past her shoulders.

“Not long, since I had a feeling you locked yourself up in here again,” she answers, running her fingers through Betty’s hair and massaging her scalp along the way.

“That feels great…” Betty makes a satisfied noise at the back of her throat, and Veronica indulges her further, scraping the back of Betty’s neck with her fingernails.

“Then you’ll be pleased to find out I got donuts for you,” Veronica grins, pushes the paper bag towards Betty.

Jaw dropping open, Betty quickly opens the bag and grabs the first donut she lays her hands on. “No way,” she says in disbelief, groans as she takes the first bite.

“Yes way,” Veronica laughs as she stands up, sliding her hands down towards Betty’s shoulder, working out the kinks and knots she finds along the way. She makes a disapproving sound when she feels a particularly large one, right beneath the back of Betty’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” Betty smiles sheepishly, cheeks tinged with a faint hint of red.

“Maybe try not to fall asleep on your desk so much, yeah?” Veronica suggests, pushing more firmly at the knot until she feels it yielding.

“I’ll try,” Betty hums, going for another donut. “Also,” she adds, spinning her chair to face Veronica. “You’re an amazing girlfriend, and no, those aren’t the donuts talking.”

Veronica chuckles, because of course Betty would give her the validation she needs without even knowing it.

“You really think so?” Veronica asks, somewhat unsurely. Betty picks up on this, and guides Veronica to sit on her lap.

“I know so,” Betty affirms, wrapping her arms around Veronica’s waist. “And maybe that doesn’t make sense, coming from someone who hasn’t been in a relationship before, but…” she taps her fingers on Veronica’s lap, smiles adoringly at her. “There shouldn’t be too much of a difference between us being best friends and being in a relationship. If… that makes any sense?”

“It does,” Veronica nods, fiddling with the collar of Betty’s shirt.

(Now that Betty mentions it, there hadn’t exactly been a major shift in their relationship when it blossomed into a romance. They’re still the same as they were, being supportive and having each other’s backs when the going got rough.

Except, every touch became more meaningful, and they didn’t have to second-guess or read too much into every little thing the other one did.

But at the end of the day, they’re still _them,_ and that’s all Veronica wants.

For them to keep being them, for them to be stronger together.)

“Although,” Veronica smirks, tugs Betty towards her. “I do like getting to kiss you anytime I want.”

At that, Betty laughs and nudges her forehead against Veronica’s. “Well, that’s a definite plus in my book, too.”

“Good,” Veronica breathes, leaves no room for Betty to respond as she goes in for the kiss.

(The only answer she needs is Betty kissing her back, and Betty never disappoints on that account.)

* * *

 

Threats are commonplace in their family, it seems. And with her father’s return hanging over their heads like a raincloud, they rise to the surface with ease.

And that’s _exactly_ what her mother uses as a weapon when she says that she has to get back in line with their family, _because you’re a Lodge before anything else._ Her words, not Veronica’s.

Bile rises to Veronica’s throat when her mother confesses without remorse to wanting to slap her but ultimately won’t go through with it, _because I’m not a violent person._ Again, her words, not Veronica’s.

But Veronica isn’t going to show any signs of weakness. Won’t let her own _mother,_ of all people, break her.

Then, without saying another word, Hermione turns on her heel and walks away, and Veronica’s first instinct is to reach for her phone and call Betty.

She doesn’t care where, she just needs to get away.

_“V? Did something happen?”_

Relief floods Veronica in an instant, the loud hammering of her heart being brought back to a state of calm at the sound of Betty’s voice. She gets up to her feet, knees wobbling slightly as she tries to control the shaking of her shoulders.

_It’s okay now. You’re going to be okay. Betty’s with you. She’s not going to hurt you, not now, not ever._

Veronica repeats it like a mantra inside her head, until she’s calmed down enough to manage speaking without choking.

“Can you-“ Veronica shakes her head, because no, she’s being too selfish if she’s going to ask Betty to pick her up right off the bat. “Are you free?”

_“Always, Veronica. Where are you? I’ll pick you up,”_ Betty says, and Veronica takes a shaky breath and nods.

_You’re okay. Betty’s going to be there soon. You’re okay._

“At the church. I’ll wait- I’ll wait for you outside,” Veronica says hoarsely, hating how _raw_ she sounds.

_“Got it. Take care, okay? I’ll be there in a few,”_ Betty promises, and Veronica nods again, about to hang up when, _“Oh, and Veronica?”_

“Yeah?” Veronica croaks, feeling strangely at ease all of a sudden.

_“I love you,”_ Betty says warmly, _surely,_ and everything comes to a standstill. With just those three words, Veronica’s hands stop shaking, the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest receding and giving way to a perfect calmness.

( _I love you._

Three words that could stop time and comfort you when said by the right person.

The person who would fight for you like hell, even when you feel like a terrible person most days. Someone who makes you feel anything _but_ a terrible person.

And Betty – God help her – _Betty_ is that person for Veronica.

_I love you._

Veronica doesn’t doubt it, won’t ever doubt Betty when she says those words.

Won’t ever want to hear them from anyone else.

_I love you._

Won’t ever want to say them back to anyone else.)

“I love you, too,” Veronica whispers, as surely as Betty.

(The one thing she’ll _always_ be sure of, the one person she’ll never doubt.)

* * *

 

(Betty doesn’t bombard her with questions as they drive away, allowing Veronica some space and time to recover from the shock her mother had left her with. When Veronica silently stretches her hand across the console, Betty already has hers halfway through, and takes hold of Veronica’s.

It says: _I’m not letting go. I’m not turning back._

Veronica squeezes Betty’s hand, staring straight ahead and not looking back.

_I know. I trust you._ )

* * *

 

She’s proven right about the Pembrooke being thrown out of sorts when he gets back. Smithers is constantly on edge, and her mother acts hardened, not at all like how she had been a few months ago when they arrived here.

And her father…

Well, she doesn’t have an inkling as to how he is because she’s out of the apartment before breakfast and in a few hours after dinner. Not counting the more frequent sleepovers she’s been having with Betty.

And to be perfectly honest, she doesn’t really care to know how things are with him. For as long as he doesn’t make a move to ruin anyone else’s lives or to try touching Betty, he can do whatever well he damn pleases.

Except, he does. Talks to Betty, she means. He says as much before she can flee to the side door as per Smithers’ suggestion.

“The girl waiting for you outside, is she your friend?” He asks, before Veronica opens the door.

Her hand freezes on the doorknob, dread settling at the bottom of her stomach, because _he did not. Oh, he did not do that._

“Why do you ask? You didn’t do anything to her, did you? Like said something to scare her, maybe?” Veronica says as scathingly as possible, her protectiveness rising to the surface.

“Mija, why would I do that?”

“I really don’t know,” Veronica snaps, cold and biting as she yanks the door open. “But if you even dare think of using her or even laying a finger on her? I’m telling you, _don’t_.”

(Don’t drag Betty into your mess, _our_ mess, is what she wants to say.

But then again, she already has, hasn’t she?

Dragged Betty down, hook, line, and sinker, even before they became more than friends.

Maybe she should have begged Betty to turn back, after all.

Maybe then she wouldn’t be so scared of the thought of Betty getting burned, whether by her own hands or by her father’s.

_Because you’re a Lodge before anything else._

She’s never hated being a Lodge more in her entire life.)

“Vero-“

Before he can start again, Veronica rushes out and slams the door shut behind her, starts walking briskly towards Betty who is leaning against the passenger’s side of her truck.

“V? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Veronica folds her arms tight across her chest, but Betty gently pries them back apart, guiding them towards her waist.

“He didn’t say or do anything to you, did he?” Veronica asks, voice tight and scratchy around the edges.

“Your dad? No, he just said hello,” Betty answers, confused and Veronica nods, torn between wanting to sink into Betty’s embrace or pushing her away before her father can say more than just _hello._

Veronica does neither, instead flashes Betty a small smile and touches her hand. “Okay.”

“What about you? Did he- did he say something?” Betty asks, eyes full of concern.

“No, nothing,” Veronica mumbles, untangling herself quickly from Betty, who is left confused when Veronica doesn’t meet her eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Alright…”

Veronica hops up on the passenger’s side, remaining silent all the way to the school. Still, it doesn’t stop Betty from taking her hand like she always does, and Veronica doesn’t have the strength to pull away, either.

(Doesn’t have the heart to push Betty away, despite knowing full well the risks of them being together would entail.

_You’re a Lodge._

And Lodges end up hurting others before going through the pain themselves. And even when they do, they don’t show it. Act like nothing fazes them when nothing could be further from the truth.

Veronica grips Betty’s hand tighter, because she can’t let that happen.

Won’t hurt Betty when they’ve already been through too much.)

* * *

 

In the end, Veronica unconsciously acts distracted and aloof from Betty for the whole day. And she feels _horrible_ for it, because Betty had been trying _so hard_ to figure her out, figure _them_ out.

It’s also why Veronica ends up walking home after Pussycat rehearsals, because she doesn’t think she can bear facing Betty after acting so disconnected with her – which was something that hasn’t happened before, at least not to this extent.

Not even close.

So when she finds Betty sitting on the steps to the apartment, staring blankly into space, Veronica is caught off guard.

“Betty,” Veronica swallows the lump in her throat, frozen from where she stands.

At the mention of her name, Betty looks up at Veronica, expression worn and conflicted. _Hurt._

_Fuck._

“Are we-“ Betty takes a deep breath, shoves her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she stands up. “Are we okay, V?” Another breath, shaky and uneven. Eyes trained on the ground. “Because you’ve been acting distant the whole day, and I don’t-“ she chews on her lip, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ve never been like this before.”

( _You hurt her. You_ hurt _her._

The voice is loud, _taunting._

_You said you won’t hurt her, but you did. Look. See? You’re a Lodge through and through._

The worst part is, the voice is right.

Her mother is right.

And the proof is standing right in front of her.

_You hurt the person who has done nothing but love you, because you so selfishly wanted it._

_Wanted to love her, wanted_ her _to love_ you.

_Wanted to be with her the way you’ve never wanted with anyone else before._

She’s a Lodge, alright. There’s no mistaking it.)

“I should have asked you to turn back,” Veronica whispers unsteadily, wrapping her arms tight around herself. Hopes it’ll be enough to keep herself together, at least before Betty walks away from her like she should have done long ago.

At least before this whole thing ever even started.

Before they took the plunge and dove headfirst into each other.

_But you don’t want her to walk away. And you don’t want to let go of her, either._

“I can’t do that,” Betty swallows, raw and ragged. Breathing rattled and unsteady.

Of course she can’t. Of course she _won’t._

(Because Veronica knows that Betty doesn’t buy it. Doesn’t believe that Veronica _actually_ wants her out of her life.

Betty always has been stubborn when it comes to her, to _them,_ after all.

_Because she’ll fight for you, she’ll_ always _fight for you. And she’ll never think of you as selfish for that._

And Veronica can’t stop fighting for her, with her, too.)

Loosening her grip on herself, Veronica releases the breath she’s been holding, looks up to find Betty has moved closer to her, but keeping enough distance between them.

Betty’s eyes are clearer, but soft nonetheless. Neither begging nor willing Veronica to make the same decision as she did, making sure her personal feelings won’t affect her judgment.

Veronica takes a step forward, watching every ragged rise and fall of Betty’s chest, watching the motion of her hands from inside the pockets of her jacket.

Hopefully not clenching them into fists and breaking into the skin of her palms, because Veronica’s not sure how she’s going to handle it if what she did hurt Betty to _that_ point.

Another step, and Betty slowly withdraws her hands so Veronica can see them, and, to her relief, Betty’s knuckles aren’t pale white, no trace of red painting her palms.

Thank God, _thank God,_ because she would never be able to forgive herself if she ever pushed Betty to that point.

“Hey,” Betty’s lips tug up in a half-smile, not a hitch in the rise and fall of her chest as Veronica closes the gap between them. Not a trace of exhaustion or hardness in her eyes, not a sign of a struggle happening within her.

There’s only softness and warmth in those green, green eyes, almost as if that’s the _only_ way Betty can look at her.

As if it’s the only way Betty _wants_ to look at her.

(And Veronica remembers.

Remembers Betty’s hand on hers as they share a glass of milkshake at Pop’s and feed each other onion rings.

Remembers sneaking out before dawn so they can watch the sunrise together, then sneaking back in before her mother wakes up and finds her bed empty.

Of jumping into Sweetwater River on those unbearably hot summer days, their laughter ringing in the air as they float on the water without a care in the world.

Of kissing each other senseless in the back of Betty’s truck, with nothing but the moon and the stars watching over them.

Of waking up in Betty’s arms, a mess of giggles and unrestrained laughter as they make fun of each other’s bedhead.

Of the way Betty looked at her all those times.

And it’s the same way Betty is looking at her _now,_ as if she could keep on loving her forever and never get tired of it.

Never get tired of _her._

Even if she stumbles like she has now.)

“Come here,” Betty murmurs, gathers Veronica into her arms.

“I’m- I’m _really_ sorry, Betty,” Veronica sobs, clutches Betty’s shirt. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have _talked_ to you.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Betty whispers soothingly, running her hands across Veronica’s back. “I should have been more sensitive about what happened between you and your dad this morning and been there for you. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t, V. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were struggling.”

“Betty, you don’t-“

Pulling back, Betty gently cradles Veronica’s face, regret swirling in her eyes. “But I do, Veronica. I made a mistake, and I want to make it up to you. I’ll listen to you. But only if you want to talk, okay?”

Veronica nods, voice shaky as she says, “I just- I started to panic when he mentioned seeing you waiting outside this morning. Then all these- these _scary_ scenarios started playing in my head, and it was enough to revert me into my old self- into acting… _cold._ ”

“You’re afraid of him getting to me…” Betty says, nodding slowly.

“You should see the effect he has on my mom. There are- there are these _days_ when she acts ruthless, and then there are these times where she looks like she’s _scared._ And I know he’s the reason for that, because who else could it be?” Veronica laughs mirthlessly, because _he’s_ the reason why everything is so messed up.

(The reason why she’s so afraid because there are times when she sees herself in him, especially when he dismisses other people’s troubles so easily as though they were nothing more than a trivial matter.

Because that _was_ her, once upon a time. And she refuses to go down that road again, even if it means defying him. It’s why she tries and tries and _tries_ so hard to reach out to other people, to show them that someone _can_ hear their cries for help.

And Betty-

Betty helped her realize that she’s more than capable of caring for others, of _loving_ , if she would only dare to believe.

And she did, she _does._

Cares and believes and hopes and _loves_ more than she could have ever thought herself to be capable of before.)

“But you’re better than them,” Betty murmurs softly, breath warm against Veronica’s lips as she touches their foreheads together. “And I can see that.”

_See? She’s not going anywhere._

“Thank you,” Veronica chokes, lets Betty hold her until she’s no longer falling apart. Feels for the constant, uninterrupted rise and fall of her chest.

_Thank you for staying._

Betty breathes in deeply, even and calm.

_Always._

* * *

 

(And Betty stays true to her, to _them._ To her promise of always.

Never lies through her teeth or sugar-coat words that are actually meant to be threats.

Never blackmails her into doing anything against her will.

Never puts her on the spot where her only choice is to go along with whatever she wants to happen.

Doesn’t live off of deceits and falsehoods or keep her in the dark like her parents do, but always, _always_ taking her feelings into consideration before coming to a decision.

_They’re not her parents._

And they aren’t, and they never will be.

Her hand and her heart in Betty’s tell her as much.)


End file.
